A Sorting Hat sponge cake
The Sorting Hat sponge I made for my son’s Harry Potter party isn’t the best cake I’ve ever tasted. That would be anything baked by my granny, or the coffee religieuse I ate in Boulogne-sur-Mer with my mum. But it’s the most surprisingly edible cake I’ve ever made – a vaguely Jamie Oliver recipe with buttercream filling and tinned mandarin slices. It didn’t just work; it tasted great, and wasn’t quite as teeth-achingly sweet as expected. My one regret is that I overdid the decoration: it looked so sinister in the fridge with its cold Sorting Hat stare that the next day I stuck on googly eyes and more sparkles. This perhaps explains why everyone assumed it was a poo emoji cake, despite it being a Harry Potter party with heavy-handed theming. That people thought I actually wanted children to eat shit is a shame, but it still remains my greatest culinary success. Catherine Shoard
A perfectly piped 35th birthday cake
My dreams of a cake fit for Marie Antoinette came true on my 35th birthday: a single baby-blue tier, whimsical white piping and glace cherries for a welcome dash of gaudy. After taking it home in a taxi from Lily Vanilli bakery in London, I proudly displayed it for all to admire. Inside, the vanilla sponge had a raspberry and buttercream filling. It felt like my wedding day when I cut the first slice. By the end of the night, after everyone had tucked in and I was about 10 tumblers of prosecco deep, I fulfilled another lifelong dream: face-planting a cake. (Well, half of one.) I picked at those sugary remains for days afterwards. Hollie Richardson
An orange cream gateau
My most treasured Christmas present of 1992 was the Hamlyn All Colour Cook Book. While I don’t remember cooking any of the savoury recipes – sherried kidneys and turkey in aspic weren’t quite to my 10-year-old tastes – the “family favourite cakes” chapter was a different story. I started with Mary Berry’s classic Victoria sandwich and graduated to her triple-decker chocolate button cake. But I found the ultimate in sophistication, decadence and all-round deliciousness in Audrey Ellis’s “fancy cakes” section: a glorious orange cream gateau. I lovingly baked two orange-zest sponges, sandwiched and smothered them with orange-juice buttercream, and decorated the top with jellied orange and lemon slices. It looked, and tasted, like pure sunshine. Rachel Dixon
Nigella’s pear, pistachio and rose cake
The monumental creation is Nigella’s pear, pistachio and rose cake, expertly reinterpreted by my friend Sian. This cake represents the three all-important ingredients of the perfect bake. First, it was made by someone whose cakes always taste as good as they look (a difficult achievement), the kind of person who is tired of everyone saying to them: “You should go on Bake-Off. No, but really, you should.” Sian very much ticks this box. (She really should.) Second, it is part of the grand tradition of “birthday swim” cakes to be eaten with friends at 7am after a freezing cold dip. And third, it features the inventive use of a single candle to represent the numeral “one”. (It is a 51st birthday cake.) No cake could compete on taste, suitability for the occasion or creativity. Viv Groskop
An iced gingerbread cake
Before my father died, I had never had to organise a funeral. The strangest part was choosing items for a funeral buffet when I was so choked with tears that I could barely swallow. But my mother was keen that we offered a good spread for my foodie father’s send-off. I chose iced gingerbread mainly because my dad loved ginger. But a mass-catered cake sounded unpromising. Imagine our surprise when it turned out to be one of the most heavenly bThe best cake I’ve ever eaten tasted homemade. It was perfectly moist, with a nice kick of ginger and cinnamon. The highlight was the melt-in-your-mouth lemon icing. There was plenty left over, and it gave us some comfort during the gloomy days that followed. Anita Chaudhuri
The Forg meme cake
Madévi Dailly’s generous Forg cake. Photograph: Courtesy of Madévi Dailly
The best cake I ever had was a replica of the notorious “Forg cake” meme, surprise-delivered to my door by a friend who had never baked before. I was in the middle of a full nervous breakdown and had been hooked up to a 24-hour blood pressure monitor the day before, which had brought me to the edge of sanity. So this gentle, generous act of friendship restored my faith in better things to come. It was delicious, too: a superb Victoria sponge hidden underneath droopy pastel icing. Madévi Dailly
A Swiss-meringue buttercream chocolate cake
The “vintage” cake at Cafe Lewi, Sydney, Australia. Photograph: Courtesy of Yvonne C Lam
It’s not my fault I’m not a cake person. Growing up, after the birthday kid blew out the candles, my saturated-fat-fearing aunties (it was the 90s) would scrape off the cream before serving the naked cake slices to my unimpressed cousins. One upside of adulthood is cake (and cream) whenever I want. On a recent child-free day with my husband, we went to Cafe Lewi, a tiny spot in Lewisham, Sydney, that serves homemade bakes and pastries, as well as tempting meals and drinks. Their “vintage” cake is a thing of beauty: layers of chocolate sponge with a rich crumb, sandwiched with chocolate ganache and raspberry curd, and thickly covered on all four sides with snow-white Swiss meringue buttercream, all decorated by someone who knows their way around a piping bag. We ate it for breakfast. Yvonne Lam
A Kirby birthday cake
Every year since my son’s third birthday, I’ve made a fancy fondant cake based on one of his fleeting interests. On my first attempt, when the theme was Pokémon, my Pikachu was so lumpy and misshapen that my son burst into tears. It turns out, though, that if you practise something once a year (with a few clay modelling sessions) and watch a lot of videos, you do improve. This cake, made by my wife, was a Victoria sponge with buttercream and jam filling, but the decoration – modelled, of course, on video game hero Kirby when he turns into a car – was all me. It tasted like triumph. Joel Snape
My mum’s chocolate hedgehog birthday cake
Rich Pelley’s mum, with her hedgehog cake. Photograph: Courtesy of Rich Pelley
As a child, I had one currency: chocolate. The more the better. Nowhere offered a better exchange rate than my mum’s cakes, especially her chocolate hedgehog birthday cake: chocolate sponge, chocolate buttons for spikes and a chocolate-icing face. It became the best part of birthdays, until I got too old for candles, left home and somehow went 30 years without a birthday cake from Mum, hedgehog or otherwise. Luckily, I’ve corrected this terrible injustice by telling her that all Guardian journalists are now required to have their mum bake them a cake … and she believed me. Thanks, Mum. Happy birthday to me. Rich Pelley
Three fourth birthday cakes
In April 2000, I turned four while on a family holiday to Nepal to visit my grandparents, who were living there. My parents had explained that it might not be possible to get me a birthday cake while we were away. For an almost-four-year-old, this was a huge tragedy, a fact I shared with almost everyone we met. When the big day arrived, the hotel staff surprised me with a huge cake decorated with green, pink and yellow icing. I was overjoyed. I can’t remember what it tasted like, but I know I’ve never been so excited about eating a cake. My tiny mind was blown again soon after, when it turned out that my grandparents had also arranged a cake for mThen my mum baked another one when we got home. I couldn’t believe my luck – three birthday cakes! I was thrilled for weeks. Lucy Knight
The perfect vegan chocolate gateau
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Anastasia’s handmade vegan chocolate gateau. Photograph: Courtesy of Ann Lee
It was my friend Anastasia’s birthday party. We were watching Eurovision and had just finished stuffing ourselves with pizza when she brought it out. A vegan chocolate cake, covered in edible purple flowers, plump strawberries and juicy blackberries, it was more a work of art than a simple gateau. She had baked it using a recipe by Nigella (who else?) and the glossy chocolate icing oozed on to the plate. From the first spoonful, I knew I had finally found it – a vegan cake that didn’t taste like a vegan cake. As someone with an extremely sweet tooth who is lactose intolerant, I have tried many over the years. Usually, they’re too dense, too dry, or taste too virtuous to feel like a treat. But this was rich, creamy, and ridiculously indulgent, even without all the sinful dairy. I savoured each chocolatey bite. Ann Lee
A cafe’s lemon drizzle cake
I was 16 and on a school trip to Westminster. During our lunch break, I visited Caffè Nero, which, in the early 2000s, still had an exotic Italian appeal and a hint of sophistication. In a hurry, I made an impulse purchase – an individually packaged slice of lemon drizzle cake. It was so delicious that I still think about it all these years later. The cake was moist, with candied lemon peel, topped with fondant icing, and contained what I can only describe as bursts of lemony icing sugar balls within the sponge. I can’t remember much about the trip except for that slice of lemon heaven. I have yet to find a lemon cake that matches it. Georgie Wyatt
A tarta de galletas birthday cake
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Esther Gomez (left), on her fourth birthday with her no-bake tarta de galletas. Photograph: Courtesy of Esther Gomez
For decades, this no-bake wonder has been the birthday cake in every Spanish household. It’s perfectly sweet, moist and beautifully balanced, with alternating layers of milk-soaked biscuits, velvety vanilla custard and the smoothest chocolate ganache. Easy to assemble and incredibly forgiving with measurements, it is the perfect introduction to cake-making for little kitchen helpers. I’ve enjoyed it hundreds of times (I have a very large family), and it remains my favourite – not just for its wonderful taste and lovely texture, but for the fond memories attached to every bite. Esther Gomez
A book made out of cake
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Frances Ryan’s uncanny, edible facsimile book cake. Photograph: Courtesy of Frances Ryan
I’d worked for four years to write my second book and, like every author, was looking for attention. What I received from my mum was more than I could have hoped for: a facsimile of my book Who Wants Normal? made entirely in cake. The real cover was recreated in orange and yellow icing wrapped around sponge pages, and even the endorsement was piped on. It was akin to that episode of the Bake Off where contestants make roast dinner gravy out of chocolate, except that this was baked by a professional my mum had hired. Was it a book? Was it cake? I could never write anything so delicious. Frances Ryan
A black forest gateau
My very first memory, at the age of two and a half, is of a black forest gateau. No chocolate cake could have prepared me for it. It stopped me in my tracks; a vast slab of dense, dark chocolate-and-purple-stained cream dotted with posh, burgundy cherries – all far more sophisticated than the sticky glaces I knew from fairy cakes. And it was on wheels (a dessert trolley). I told the waiter I wanted a “big slice”. He tapped me on the head and said I had to wait. Strangely, my memory doesn’t stretch to eating it. Perhaps it remained a feast for the eyes alone. Either way, it set the cake bar for life. Emily Retters
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A baklava cheesecake
The delightful baklava cheesecake at Nuba in Vancouver. Photograph: Nuba
While I’m not a big fan of cakes, there was one that bucked the trend: a baklava cheesecake. I tasted this melt-in-the-mouth delight when I was working at Nuba, a Lebanese restaurant in Vancouver. Its flaky filo pastry pistachio base was perfectly complemented by a soft cheesecake centre. Three years on, I’m still waiting for the pastry chef to send me the recipe. Gabriel Stewart
My mum’s tea loaf
In terms of looks, this cake is pretty underwhelming. It’s brown on top, and brown inside. There’s no icing, decoration or fireworks. But it tastes fantastic. It was the cake my mum always made growing up: a simple loaf with sultanas and raisins inside and, crucially, tea. The fruit gets steeped in it. Not surprisingly, it pairs well with a cup of tea and sends me back to the Sunday afternoons of my childhood. I think this cake’s feelgood vibes have seeped in deep, because whenever I want cheering up – not being much of a cake maker – I put the kettle on. Paula Cocozza
A coconut cream cake
Lana Crowe’s coconut cream cake, with the backup lemon number. Photograph: Courtesy of Lana Crowe
One of my best friends baked me a coconut cream cake for my 26th birthday. I’m dairy intolerant, so this type of whippy treat usually sends a shiver down my intestinal tract. But she made it vegan by replacing all the milk ingredients with coconut, even using coconut milk powder in the icing. It was buttery, subtly sweet, featherlight but satiating, with toasty, nutty notes. Five years later, my family still talks about it. My friend had been so nervous it would be horrible that she also baked me a backup cake. A fine testament to friendships in your 20s. Lana Crowe
Schwarzwälder kirschtorte
Can there be anything more thrilling to a child than a cake trolley? The anticipation as it works its way towards you, pushed by a smart and austere waiter, laden with cakes lavishly decorated like something out of a children’s picture book. My sister and I, both about 12, were with my dad, who was working in Salzburg for the summer. One day he took us to this grand cafe, all retro Mitteleuropean magnificence and good manners. I chose a black forest gateau, probably because it was the biggest. I actually don’t remember eating it, so perhaps I was underwhelmed. It’s the delight of the trolley I remember, and – rare for a child – being able to choose what I wanted. I remember its name: schwarzwälder kirschtorte. The words still pop into my head, on repeat, like a spell. Emine Saner
A popcorn mermaid cake
When I was growing up, I was allowed to choose the cake I wanted for my birthday each year. At five or six, that meant a mermaid cake. Chocolate-coated popcorn “rocks” covered the sponge, on top of which perched a (non-edible) Ariel doll, her legs obscured within the cake itself and a mermaid’s tail fashioned from “scales” painstakingly cut out of icing. I seem to remember she also wore a shell-shaped icing bikini top. It possibly wasn’t the most sophisticated cake in the world, but I had chosen it from a recipe book and my mum had somehow made it real. I was thrilled. Leah Harper
A burnt Basque cheesecake
Burnt Basque cheesecake at La Viña in San Sebastián. Photograph: Nathaniel Noir/Alamy
I was in San Sebastián for the night – though it felt more like a week as we hopped from one pintxos bar to another. Ending the evening at La Viña, we joined a 20-strong line for Basque cheesecake from the restaurant that invented it. Sitting on a shop stoop with violently coloured Patxaran cocktails in hand, we carved our way through the slab. It was a dreamy custard mousse with a caramelised cut-through from the burnt outer layer,sinking into a center that’s more liquid than solid. A rare dessert that felt both light and rich at the same time. Emma ElsworthyNigella’s chocolate Guinness cakeView image in fullscreenNigella Lawson’s classic chocolate Guinness cake. Photograph: Courtesy of Louis StaplesFor my birthday earlier this year, my best friend Alix baked me a cake I’m still dreaming about (and drooling over). Nigella Lawson’s chocolate Guinness cake has the three things that define all her recipes: it’s indulgent, unpretentious, and luxurious. The sticky cocoa sponge balances the subtly bitter taste of Guinness with enough sweetness to give an elephant a sugar high. And the sponge’s delicate hint of chocolate is offset by the tanginess of the simple cream cheese topping dolloped on top, making the cake look like a creamy pint of Guinness. Louis StaplesBettys’ Dougal the dog cakeView image in fullscreenThe Yorkshire standard Dougal cake at Bettys in York. Photograph: BettysIn 1970s York, children’s birthday cakes came in one shape (round) and one of two colors (yellow or brown). Then, one day, there was Dougal. Bettys tearooms’ version of the character from The Magic Roundabout blew my mind – I had no idea a cake could be dog-shaped. Dougal was also a taste sensation: his shaggy coat skillfully made from feather-light buttercream; his insides from sophisticated dark chocolate sponge; his face from a meringue disc with a cheeky, pink piped-icing tongue. Although now tragically discontinued, this exquisite cylindrical trailblazer will long remain in the hearts of many York children. Dougal walked so Colin the Caterpillar could run (crawl?). Emma BeddingtonA grilled banana cakeView image in fullscreenKieran Yeow’s beloved grilled banana cake, at Milk. Photograph: Courtesy of Kieran YeowThe grilled banana cake at Milk in Balham, south London, was the ray of warmth I was looking for last winter. Paired with silky whipped halva and pumpkin seed tahini, it worked divinely with a slightly smoky yet delicate sweetness that melts in the mouth almost instantly. Who knew a banana milkshake came in cake form? Kieran Yeow’Death by chocolate’ cakeCake was never on the menu when I was a kid. My mum was, and remains, an anti-sugarist, who ran a tyrannical campaign of snack and confectionery suppression. But a memorable exception was made when I was around nine years old. I was invited to a friend’s birthday party at the local swimming baths, but my folks muddled the dates and brought me a day late. Not only did I miss out on flinging myself around an inflatable assault course, but I also missed a rare chance to get my paws on a slice of birthday cake. I felt crushed, but I leveraged my disappointment to manipulate Mum into taking me to a local cafe, which served the legendary “death by chocolate” cake. A large slab of multilayered indulgence thudded onto the table. After years of substitute confectionery, I felt its name was a legitimate warning. The warm, buttery fudge at the top was sprinkled with milk chocolate flakes, complemented by layers of sponge as soft as cloud, smooth salted caramel, chocolate ice cream, and a final layer of sponge stacked on top of a dark chocolate base. Daniel LavelleA buttercream Victoria sandwichView image in fullscreenDale Berning Sawa’s elaborately embellished Victoria sandwich cake. Photograph: Courtesy of Dale Berning SawaWhen a traditional sponge cake – known as pound cake in the US and quatre-quarts (describing equal measures of butter, eggs, sugar and flour) in France – is done right, there’s no bettering it. I wouldn’t usually ice it: that dense crumb (from using plain flour, rather than self-raising) defies decoration. Turn it into a Victoria sandwich, though (as I have for my kid from the age of four), and all that air you spend seven minutes beating into the butter and sugar sets the mind afloat with possibility. I’ll bake multiple layers, then sandwich them with raspberry jam iI stack them into a tall pile, then lightly coat the whole thing with buttercream (I like vanilla or white chocolate Swiss meringue buttercream) and cover it with rolled-out fondant. Sometimes I add sculptural touches – Matisse-inspired chocolate trees with marbled leaves, candy stained-glass shards, oddly shaped meringue mushrooms, chocolate bark siding. I can honestly say these are the best cakes I’ve ever had – not because I get to taste them, but because I usually don’t. No matter how thinly I slice the portions, the cake gets devoured before I have a chance. Dale Berning Sawa
A lemon drizzle and earl grey traybake
Sometimes the most delicious treats are the ones you’re not supposed to eat. When I was 15, my friend and I baked and donated cakes as part of the volunteering section for our Duke of Edinburgh awards. This time, what came out of the oven looked amazing and, for once, wasn’t burnt. It was the most delicious, golden, glistening lemon drizzle traybake. As I cut our masterpiece into bite-sized pieces, I sneaked a few into my mouth. It had the perfect balance of sweetness and tangy lemon, with a hint of earl grey tea. It was a guilty pleasure, but so worth it. Charlotte Smith
Frequently Asked Questions
FAQs Everyone thought it was a poop emoji 27 Writers on the Best Cake of Their Lives
Beginner Questions
What is Everyone thought it was a poop emoji
Its a collection of short essays by 27 writers each describing the single best cake theyve ever eaten The title comes from one writers story about a cake shaped like a poop emoji
Who wrote it
Its a group anthology so each essay is by a different writer Theres no single authorits 27 voices in one book
What kind of book is it
Its a food writing anthology The pieces are personal essays and memories not recipes or a cookbook
Do I need to be a food expert to enjoy it
No Its about memories and storytelling so anyone who likes cake or good writing can enjoy it
Is it actually about poop
No Thats just one funny story in the title The book is about cake and the memories tied to it
How long is it
Its a collection of short essays so its easy to read in small chunksgood for a commute or before bed
Intermediate Questions
Whats the main theme
The best cake of each writers life Some are fancy bakery cakes some are boxed mixes some are family recipeswhat matters is the memory attached
Why do people like this book
Its nostalgic and funny Cake is tied to birthdays weddings and family so readers often remember their own cake stories
What kinds of cakes show up in the stories
A wide range birthday cakes wedding cakes supermarket sheet cakes homemade family cakes and novelty cakes like the poop emoji one
Is there a common thread across the essays
Yesmost writers say the best cake wasnt about flavor alone The setting the people and the moment mattered just as much
Can I get recipes from it
Not really Its about stories not instructions Some essays mention ingredients or bakeries but its not a recipe book
Who would enjoy this
Food memoir fans cake lovers writers and anyone who likes short funny heartfelt essays
Advanced Questions
What makes the title so effective
Its a baitandswitch Poop emoji
